The sun hung low in the sky as the hunting party paused to rest. The nobles congregated in small groups, exchanging loud laughter and exaggerated tales of their supposed conquests. Meanwhile, Eleanor sat beneath the shade of an oak tree, away from the boisterous crowd.
Her hands stung as she examined them. Red and raw, her palms bore the fresh marks of her attempts at archery. Though calluses were no stranger to her in her past life, her current body was not accustomed to such rough treatment. She sighed, flexing her fingers and wincing at the sharp pain.
A shadow fell over her, breaking her train of thought. Looking up, she saw Prince Adrian standing with a water flask extended toward her.
"You look like you need this," he said, his tone neutral but with a hint of concern.
Eleanor managed a small smile. "Thank you, Your Highness, but I already have water." She held up her own flask, still nearly full.
